Chapter 15: An Unintended Enrollment

"It will be a long time before I enjoy this weather," Ravenlight grumbled, pulling the hood of her cloak tighter. It had grown colder overnight, and while it wasn't storming, it was overcast and gloomy. Wind blew fitfully around them, bringing occasional flurries of hard snow.

Drizzt chuckled, but nodded in agreement. "I loved Icewind Dale because of the friends I found there, not because of the climate." He looked up and nodded. "Thankfully, we don't have to go that far."

"Unless you count that bridge." Ravenlight eyed the exposed length of rock uncertainly, silently grateful that the wind, though cold, was not particularly hard.

"This from the woman who runs down sheer cliff faces." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She made a face at him. "I have this thing about unsupported heights, remember? I'd like going across it a little more if there was another pillar of rock between this side and the College."

Drizzt had to agree with that.

The College gatekeeper, Faralda, looked up at them and smiled as they came up to them. "Ah, the heroes of the hour approach! What can I do for the pair of you?"

"We need to get into the College," Ravenlight answered. "The Loremaster may have some knowledge we need."

Faralda inclined her head a little. "Well, I don't have a problem with that, but there are formalities to be observed. What are you looking for within?"

Ravenlight and Drizzt exchanged glances, then she took a deep breath. "I'm looking for knowledge of the Elder Scrolls. I'm the Dragonborn, and it's something I need to defeat Alduin, the World-Eater."

Faralda's mouth dropped open, and she stared for a moment. "Then—you—it was you. By the gods, I never imagined...by the gods." She closed her mouth, blinked several times, then frowned. "I will need some kind of...verification for the claim. Preferably without another dragon attack."

Ravenlight nodded and stepped forward. "I guessed." Her eyes flickered red as she turned, just enough to make sure Faralda would not be in danger, and Shouted. "FUS!"

The Altmer jerked to the side, her eyes wide, as a loose chunk of rock sailed off the bridge for almost twenty feet before falling down. "By the gods," she repeated. "I've never seen anything like that in my life."

"Does that verify my claim?" Ravenlight grinned at her impishly.

"Yes." Faralda blinked and shook her head. "Yes, it certainly does." She turned and beckoned. "Come with me; I'll let you in."

The bridge was much sturdier than it appeared; it was almost possible to forget that it wasn't actually supported by anything, although Ravenlight eyed the crumbling edges suspiciously and stayed in the middle of the path. Drizzt, though he knew better than to say anything, still found it amusing that someone who was so careless about running down cliffs would be so uneasy about the bridge. Although, thinking about it, he supposed her suspicion was less that shewould fall, and more that what she stood on would.

He would have shared her concern a little more if he hadn't been convinced that most of the mages would have put considerable effort into maintaining their only link with the rest of the world. After all, the College did need students...not to mention food supplies from outside. And he hadn't seen anything that would suggest the College mages were as careless as the Harpells.

Well... He amended that. Yet. He had the feeling that they would correct that as soon as they could.

Along the way up the bridge, Faralda cast Magelight spells into specially-designed wells set at regular intervals. Now, as they neared the end of the bridge, she cast the final one, and the huge, wrought-iron gates swung ponderously open. The three walked through, Drizzt and Ravenlight looking around curiously as they did.

Circles dominated the College's design: large walls surrounded a circular courtyard, with a central well similar to the ones Faralda had lit. Glancing back as she entered the courtyard, Ravenlight saw a pair of towers on either side of the gate; and while the imposing main building presented a rectangular front, she was fairly sure it was rounded in back as well. She stopped in front of a statue of an older man dominating the overgrown courtyard and looked up at it curiously, momentarily unaware that Drizzt and Faralda had walked past.

Who is that, I wonder? She'd thought at first that the statue depicted Julianos; after all, the god of knowledge and wisdom was the obvious patron for a school of magic. But statues to any god usually included a shrine, where worshipers could leave offerings and receive blessings. And this statue had no shrine anywhere near it.

Brisk steps squeaked over the powder snow, and she looked away from the statue to see a stern-looking woman approach, trying to smooth over a particularly thunderous expression as she did. "Hello," she said, managing a smile that didn't look like baring teeth. "And who might you be?"

Ravenlight bowed a little, not sure why the newcomer was so angry, but wanting to ensure she didn't add to her irritation. "Faralda let me in," she explained. "My name is Ravenlight, and I—"

"Oh, you must be that last student." The woman's face cleared. "I'm Mirabelle Ervine, the Master Wizard of the College of Winterhold. Come with me; I'll get you set up."

"Ah—" This wasn't what she'd been expecting, and it set her back on her heels. "I didn't—"

"The others are here already, but they're not much ahead of you." Mirabelle turned on her heel, beckoning. "Follow me; I'll show you your quarters, and get you some spare robes. They'll likely be more comfortable than..." She looked back, giving Ravenlight's fur garb a questioning glance. "What you currently have on."

Ravenlight, feeling a little as if she'd been caught in a riptide from which there was no escape, bit back an angry remark. After all, Mirabelle did not know she had spent the better part of three days sewing the garments...and it would be nice to change after spending four days in them. "What other students?" she asked, to distract herself.

"Oh...have you not met them?" Mirabelle gave her a surprised look, before shrugging a little. "Ah, you'll meet them soon enough. Their names are Onmund, J'zargo, and Brelyna; a Nord, a Khajiit, and a Dunmer, respectively. They joined a few days ago."

"Ah." Ravenlight's eyes widened suddenly as she remembered something. "Ah—speaking of Dunmer. My friend—who is not a student, by the way—he came in with me. He wanted to know something from the Loremaster?"

"Do you know where he is?" Mirabelle glanced at her with a quirked eyebrow.

"No." Ravenlight shook her head. "Faralda brought us in, but I lost track of them while I was looking at that statue. Who is that, by the way?"

Mirabelle looked at the statue in question. "That is Shalidor, the founder of the College, and one of the greatest wizards in Skyrim's history. What's your friend's name?"

"Drizzt Do'Urden. He's a Dunmer." Technically, he wasn't, but she was the only one who would know what the word 'Drow' meant here in Skyrim. Here, as far as anyone knew, he was a Dunmer with strange coloring.

"Drizzt?" The Master Wizard tried the name, frowning curiously. "That's an unusual name. He must have quite the story to tell." She shook her head. "Well. Once I've got you settled in the Hall of Attainment and shown you around a little, I'll see if I can't find him and take him to the Loremaster." She grimaced. "And if I can keep him away from Ancano, that will be an added bonus."

"Ancano?" Ravenlight looked up sharply. "I heard that name last night, at the inn. Who is he?"

"At the—" Mirabelle looked confused for a moment, then laughed. "Of course you were at the inn last night, the whole town was. How did his name come up, if I may ask?"

"It was just before Talsgar sang The Age of Oppression. I heard someone say it was a good thing Ancano wasn't there. I wasn't sure why they asked."

Mirabelle's lips thinned impressively. "It was a good thing. Ancano is the...aide to Savos Aren, the Arch-Mage of the College. He's also a Thalmor agent."

Ravenlight stiffened, her eyes widening. "A Thal—"

"Yes." She scowled, her hands clenching. "Frankly, he's nothing but an arrogant nuisance who insists in sticking his nose in every place it doesn't belong. You caught me in such a poor mood because I'd just come from a clash with him."

"Makes sense." Ravenlight frowned, tapping her fingers on her arm. It's probably a good thing I'll be going in as a student. With any luck, this Ancano hasn't heard from Elenwen in a while. She grimaced. If he has, though, I could be in trouble.

Faralda led Drizzt down a stairway, coming out in a warm, well-lit area. The air was fragrant with the scent of old, well-maintained books and beeswax candles. A spike-haired Dunmer was perched in a comfortable chair, sipping wine from an enameled goblet and paging through a thick book. Across the room, a bald man had several books out and took notes from them, muttering to himself. Faralda ignored them both, heading for a large desk at the back of the room.

"Urag!" she called. "I've got someone here to talk to you."

The person behind the desk looked up, and Drizzt's eyes widened in astonishment. The Loremaster was undeniably an Orc. He looked back to see if Ravenlight was as surprised as he was—which was when he realized that Ravenlight was no longer with them. He frowned, looking around to see if she was somewhere else in the Arcaneum.

The bearded Orc frowned at the pair. "Mistreat any of these books, Dunmer, and I'll have you torn to pieces by angry Atronachs. Who is this, Faralda?"

"This is Drizzt Do'Urden. He's the one who helped fight off that Elder Dragon a few days ago, and he's—" Faralda realized that Drizzt was looking around and paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he answered, "but we seem to have misplaced my companion."

Faralda's eyes widened, and she looked around as well. "I thought she was right behind me! Oh—wait here, I'll go see if I can find her. She can't be too far off."

Faralda hurried out of the library, leaving Drizzt alone—and under a none-too-friendly eye. There was some comfort to be had in guessing that the grim-faced librarian wasn't singling him out; he would probably have been just as grouchy to anyone who first entered his domain.

"Drizzt Do'Urden, eh?" The Orc leaned forward a little, eyeing him curiously. "That's about the oddest name for a Dunmer I've ever heard. So what's your story?"

Of all the things that might have happened, this wasn't something Drizzt had anticipated, and he stiffened. "Ah...I'm not from Tamriel."

"I didn't think you were." The Orc leaned back. "Precious few Dunmer with that coloring, even from Morrowwind. So, where do you hail from? Some corner of Akavir? The fabled homeland of the Mer?"

Drizzt looked pointedly at the two other people in the library, before returning Urag's stare. The Orc snorted, then reconsidered.

"Secrets, eh? All right; I'll let you be. For now. What brought you and this missing companion of yours to my library?"

Drizzt rubbed his head. "What do you know about the Elder Scrolls?"

Part of him felt a smug satisfaction at seeing the librarian set back on his heels, but the Orc soon recovered. "The Elder Scrolls? Nothing larger than that?" He frowned. "I think I have a few books...what kind of information are you looking for?"

"Anything that might tell us where to find one." He shrugged one shoulder. "And yes, I know what an...imposing task that is."

"Impossible may be more like it." He stood and went to the shelves. "The books talk about them, but none of them say where one might be. Make yourself comfortable while I find them; it's going to take a while."

Drizzt looked around, then moved over into a quiet corner so as to be out of the way. This meant he was out of sight when a tall, gold-skinned Elf entered the library, an aloof, haughty stare a fixture on his face...and wearing unpleasantly familiar robes. Drizzt had only seen that design once before. But it was under circumstances he wasn't likely to forget. His eyes narrowed, and his hands briefly rested on his scimitars.

"Urag," the Thalmor said. "Is there any chance you've finally got around to finding that material I've been asking about?"

"Like I told you last time you asked about it, Ancano," Urag answered, giving the Elf a cold glare, "I will have it once you find me a reliable errand boy to get it out of the ruin I've tracked it to. And don't bother sending me any more of your agents. I wouldn't trust them to fetch me my dinner, let alone a priceless tome."

The Thalmor folded his arms. "You ask me for reliable, I find you reliable, and then you reject them. I'm starting to wonder if you don't have a reason to keep this volume out of my hands."

Urag stopped in front of him, still glaring. "You're in front of a book I need. Move."

Ancano exchanged glares for a little while, but it seemed that Thalmor arrogance was no match for Orc stubbornness. He gave way. "I won't wait forever, Urag."

"Then go get it yourself, Thalmor." Urag retrieved the book he wanted. "I'll give you the location if you're that interested." He looked at the books he held, then went back to his desk. "These are all we have on that subject, Dunmer."

"Thank you." Drizzt came out of the shadows, trying not to eye Ancano suspiciously. He himself didn't have anything to fear from the Thalmor; they knew nothing about him. But he had no illusions as to how they felt about his companion—and he had reason to suspect that if they knew he was her companion, he would be made a target as soon as they could manage.

At the moment, however, he was pretty sure the irritated Altmer disliked him solely because Urag had been at least marginally more helpful to him. Ancano glared for a moment, before hissing out a phrase under his breath and stalking off. The spike-haired Dunmer seated by himself glanced up, frowning.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," he muttered, before going back to his book.

Drizzt watched the Thalmor's exit, frowning a little. Ancano's presence was going to be trouble, there was no way around that. But he didn't yet know how much trouble, or what form that trouble would take. At the moment, the only thing he could do was warn Ravenlight about him as soon as he found her; and he wasn't going to wander off before Faralda had the chance to come back. For the time being, the best thing to do was to look at what knowledge the College had of the Elder Scrolls, and commit it to memory.

The first book was straightforward, if unhelpful. The second, however, was...utterly bizarre. He stared down at the pages after the first reading, shook his head, and tried again, sure he must have misread something.

"Imagine living beneath the waves with a strong-sighted blessing of most excellent fabric. Holding the fabric over your gills, you would begin to breathe-drink its warp and weft. Though the plantmatter fibers imbue your soul, the wretched plankton would pollute the cloth until it stank to heavens of prophecy. This is one manner in which the Scrolls first came to pass, but are we the sea, or the breather, or the fabric? Or are we the breath itself?

Can we flow through the Scrolls as knowledge flows through, being the water, or are we the stuck morass of sea-filth that gathers on the edge?

Imagine, again this time but different. A bird cresting the wind is lifted by a gust and downed by a stone. But the stone can come from above, if the bird is upside down.

Where, then, did the gust come from? And which direction? Did the gods send either, or has the bird decreed their presence by her own mindmaking?

The all-sight of the Scrolls makes a turning of the mind such that relative positions are absolute in their primacy.

I ask you again to imagine for me. This time you are beneath the ground, a tiny acorn planted by some well-meaning elf-maiden of the woodlands for her pleasure. You wish to grow but fear what you may become, so you push off the water, the dirt, the sun, to stay in your hole. But it is in the very pushing that you become a tree, in spite of yourself. How did that happen?

The acorn is a kind of tree-egg in this instance, and the knowledge is water and sun. We are the chicken inside the egg, but also the dirt. The knowledge from the Scrolls is what we push against to become full-sighted ourselves.

One final imagining before your mind closes from the shock of ever-knowing. You are now a flame burning bright blue within a vast emptiness. In time you see your brothers and sisters, burning of their own in the distance and along your side.

A sea of pinpoints, a constellation of memories. Each burns bright, then flickers. Then two more take its place but not forever lest the void fills with rancid light that sucks the thought.

Each of our minds is actually the emptiness, and the learnings of the Scrolls are the pinpoints. Without their stabbing light, my consciousness would be as a vast nothingness, unknowing its emptiness as a void is unknowing of itself. But the burnings are dangerous, and must be carefully tended and minded and brought to themselves and spread to their siblings."

It didn't change on the second, or the third reading. Drizzt stared down at the yellowed paper. "This book makes...absolutely no sense!"

"Eh?" Urag looked up from his catalog. "Which one is that?"

Drizzt looked at the title and handed it over. "Ruminations on the Elder Scrolls."

"Oh, Septimus Signus's work." Urag looked at the book and shook his head. "He's the world's foremost expert on the Elder Scrolls, but his study...let's just say it came with a cost."

"I'll say." Drizzt shook his head as well, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm...familiar with wizards, and I've heard them talk about their work, so I know it's sometimes unintelligible to those who aren't versed in magic...but this takes it to a completely different level!"

The librarian chuckled dryly. "I assure you, Septimus Signus was unintelligible to everyone, wizards included." He sighed. "He's been gone for a long time. Too long."

The one person who could have told us where to find an Elder Scroll...and he's... "Dead, then?"

Urag looked at him in surprise. "I hope not. He and I were close once. No; he just became obsessed with the Dwemer. Last I heard of him, he was heading to the ice flats off the northern coast. Supposedly he'd located some kind of Dwemer artifact out there. He went off, and that was the last anyone knew of him. Far as I know, he's still out there."

"Do you know where that is?" Drizzt frowned, considering. He'd been to the uppermost northern regions of Faerun once, on the trail of the Balor Errtu. It had not been the most pleasant time he'd ever had. However, he considered that, with the chance to actually prepare for that kind of trip...and without a companion in mortal danger leading them on...and a friend held captive by the Balor...heck, without the damn Balor in the first place...

It still probably wouldn't be pleasant. Ravenlight really didn't like the bitter cold, and while he was used to it, he didn't enjoy it himself. But it would likely be a lot less dangerous!

"I don't know exactly where he is, but I do know the general area." Urag beckoned a little. "I can mark the place for you on a map."

Drizzt grimaced. "And now I really need to find Ravenlight, because she has the map."

Urag laughed. "Well, don't worry about that. I have a good memory, so once you find her, I'll be ready to send you both after him." He paused. "Say, why are the two of you so interested in the Elder Scrolls, anyway?"

Drizzt hesitated. "That's...Ravenlight's to tell," he said at last. "It's mainly her quest, though I am in it with her to the hilt. But what that quest is...that's hers to tell, not mine. I won't spread it unless she tells me I can."

"Not a gossip, eh?" The Orc looked him over. "I think I like you, Drizzt. And I don't like many people. Once you find this missing comrade of yours, bring her back and I'll send you where you need to go." He glanced past the Drow and frowned a little. "Mirabelle. What brings you here?"

Quick steps drew closer. "Looking for—ah. You must be Drizzt Do'Urden."

She hadn't got his name quite right—but she hadn't butchered it either. Curious, Drizzt turned to see a woman with an air of brisk, no-nonsense competence striding toward them. "You were looking for me?"

"Yes, at your friend's request." Mirabelle looked him over, noting his coloring with a raised eyebrow and a gleam of interest. "Right now, she's in the Hall of the Elements with the other students, but the lesson should be over fairly soon. It won't disrupt anything if you would like to wait out there for her."

Drizzt blinked, trying to keep his surprise in check. Students? Other students? "I'm not that familiar with the College," he said. "Could you show me where to go?"

Mirabelle nodded. "Certainly, if you're finished here."

Urag nodded. "I don't think we had any business left at the moment." He waved a dismissive hand. "Go on. Just remember to bring her back here once she's finished out there."

Mirabelle looked at Drizzt in surprise as they left the Arcaneum. "I'm astounded," she said. "That's probably the closest I've ever heard that old grouch come to inviting anyone back into his personal kingdom. You must have truly impressed him somehow."

"He did say he thought he liked me." Drizzt did not say that he had been almost childishly delighted to see that the Loremaster was an Orc. Admittedly, Tamriel Orsimer might be different from Faerun Orcs, and, considering the threat he'd received as a greeting, an Orc librarian was still an Orc...but even so.

"Doubly astounded." She shook her head. "It's been a while since he liked anyone. I don't think you'll need to fear being out of place here, even if you're not a mage or a student. If you can charm Urag gro-Shub into liking you, you're either the most likable person on Nirn, or you've a tongue of solid silver—and either one will serve you well here."

They came out into a large, circular room, lit by the blue light of a large well similar to those on the path. It was cool, but not actually cold, and made the fur garb he was wearing uncomfortably warm. He debated whether or not he should open the front of his tunic. On the one hand, he didn't want to overheat; on the other, he wasn't exactly blind to the looks he'd been getting from half the women they'd encountered across Skyrim. And there were a number of women in the room, not all of them paying attention to the older man speaking at the far end. He decided against it. If he got too warm, he'd just head back out to the courtyard.

It took him a moment to find Ravenlight among the others in the hall, partly because he was looking for the fur garb she'd been wearing for the past few days. The college uniform gave the group of students a relative sameness—though considering that the group consisted of a young Nord, a slim Dunmer girl, and a bipedal cat, it didn't take him that long to pick out the one black-haired Bosmer at the edge of the group.

Ravenlight stood out from the others. Not because of her race, which actually wasn't that unusual compared to the cat-person, but because of her stance. All of the other students appeared slightly nervous; she seemed more...resigned to being there. And he didn't think any situation would change the air of easy confidence that came with being a skilled fighter.

Coming in on the tail end of the lecture as he did, Drizzt wasn't sure what the lesson was about. But they seemed to be discussing the safety of various spells. The instructor was stressing the need for caution; the students—rather typically—wanted to get to the good stuff right away. Ravenlight didn't get involved, simply standing to the side with a little smile on her face. She noticed Drizzt, glanced at the other students, and rolled her eyes.

He covered a laugh. He wasn't a mage himself, but he knew just enough to know what she meant. You did have to keep track of your magic during a battle—but focusing too much on safety would get you killed.

"You've been very quiet over there." The instructor, of course, turned to her almost as soon as she'd made that little gesture. "What do you think?"

Ravenlight straightened, tipping her head to the side a little. "As someone who's done a fair amount of adventuring, I would say that you're both right. Trying a spell you're not ready for—especially in a fight—could be disastrous. But not knowing some practical cantrips, like Flames or Healing, could be equally bad in a tight spot."

"An excellent point." The man nodded. Drizzt noted with some surprise that, while all the other students turned to look at Ravenlight with surprise and curiosity, the instructor didn't seem at all fazed to learn that one of his students was an experienced adventurer. "You mentioned Flames and Healing. Another helpful spell for an adventurer is the Ward. There are several levels of this spell. The one I'd like to demonstrate today is the Minor Ward, the simplest of all of them and the easiest to learn." He looked at her. "Are you familiar with it?"

She nodded a little. "I've learned it, anyway."

The instructor beamed. "Excellent! All right, stand opposite me, in that circle there. The rest of you, move back a little? Thank you. Excellent, excellent." He faced off with the mildly bemused Bosmer. "If you would call up a Minor Ward, child?"

Ravenlight heroically refrained from rolling her eyes a second time, and Drizzt covered his mouth to keep back a laugh. The wizard giving the lesson was by no means a young man—but Ravenlight, from the stories she'd told, was well over a hundred, meaning that she was less of a child than the teacher. She said nothing, though, bracing herself and raising her hands into position instead. A few seconds later, power flared and an oval of blue light appeared in front of her.

"Excellent; a very stable ward, too. Keep it up!" He raised his hand, then blasted the ward with a current of fire. Drizzt's eyes widened—but only for a second. The light acted as a shield, absorbing some of the flames and keeping off the rest.

The demonstration lasted only a moment, before he turned to the other three to explain the numerous uses of wards and asked them to start practicing their own. As he worked with them, Drizzt noticed something: Ravenlight was panting. She didn't seem to be on the verge of collapse, but it was clear that keeping the ward up as long as she had had taken something out of her. He came up behind her as unobtrusively as he could.

"Ravenlight?" he said quietly. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Just...I'm not used to those. I won't be doing it again in a hurry." She leaned against the edge of the large blue well in the center of the room, rubbing the spot between her eyes. Drizzt absently moved a little closer, watching the other students with both interest and caution.

They all had their own style when it came to magic, that much was clear. The Dunmer girl did extraordinarily well, neither holding back nor overextending herself. The Nord seemed a little more cautious, but had no trouble, while the cat-person was so enthusiastic that he exhausted himself twice and got scolded for putting himself in danger.

Watching them use the wards reminded him of something. "You don't use wards very often, do you?"

Ravenlight shook her head. "Restoration is my strongest school, but I almost never use the wards. Just for starters, they won't stop an arrow, and they drain me pretty badly." She shrugged. "A full mage could use them; but I'm a fighter as much as a mage, so I don't devote all my time to magic."

"You don't seem to devote your time to any one thing," Drizzt pointed out. "Fighter, healer, alchemist, smith; am I missing anything?"

"Huntress and enchanter," she said without heat. "And some would add sneak, though I've never picked a lock anywhere respectable or stolen anything. Moving silently is more self-preservation than anything else, especially when you consider where I've gone."

"It's helpful, too; considering how much you rely on your bow." Drizzt looked up and fell silent as the instructor, signaling to the other students to stop practicing wards, began to speak again.

"Before you wear yourselves out, I have an announcement: the College has been given a rare opportunity. Excavations have begun at the nearby ruins of Saarthal, and we have permission to do some studying in the ruins."

"Saarthal?" Looks were exchanged, and soft muttering rose. Ravenlight frowned, as if trying to remember something, and then her eyes widened.

He continued. "This is a fascinating chance to examine the knowledge of a much older people, and should not be passed up. If any of you needs a guide, you have but to ask; otherwise, I will meet you at the entrance to the city in a few hours."

Drizzt watched as the old wizard headed out the door, followed slowly by the other three. "That was a little...abrupt," he mused.

"Abrupt seems to be the order of the day around here," Ravenlight muttered. "That's how I became a student. Mirabelle Ervine is like a force of nature. Did you get to talk to the Loremaster?"

"Yes, Urag gro-Shub." He grinned. "He's an Orc."

"Not surprising, with a name like that." Ravenlight took the news—which would have been monumental in Faerun—without batting an eye. Literally. "What did he know about the Elder Scrolls?"

"Not much himself, and he didn't have one available. But he did know about an expert in them: someone named Septimus Signus." He paused. "The problem is, the man is utterly insane. And he's somewhere north of here, in the ice flats."

"In that case, it's a good thing Alduin is taking his time, because I am not going out into the furthest reaches of the world at the beginning of winter. The Scroll will have to wait until spring." Her voice brooked no argument—not that he was going to argue. Even those who lived in Icewind Dale had known that winter was the time to hunker down and stay indoors, and that heading out could mean death.

"So what will we do in the meantime?" He looked around.

Ravenlight shrugged, straightening and stretching her back. "Well, having been roped into this place, I suppose we could hang around here for a while. I could use the magic practice. And Saarthal; well, it sounds interesting." She plucked at the hem of her robe. "But I want to change out of this. It's unlikely we'll find a Dark Brotherhood assassin this far north, but after that incident in Dawnstar, not wearing armor makes me twitchy."

"I don't blame you." Drizzt paused. "Will your armor be warm enough?"

"Not until we actually get to Saarthal. But the fur clothing I made is reinforced with leather, so it's better than cloth." She shrugged. "With any luck, there won't be another dragon attack—and for anything else I can stay out of range."

He nodded in agreement. "That's true enough. All right; while you're changing, I'll head back into town and talk with the innkeeper about renting for the winter."

"Just one room." She grimaced. "There's a dormitory here, and each student has a room, including me. It will be a...hair-raising thing, I think, staying with them; but it won't be a bad thing to get to know them, either."

"They look like an interesting group." He paused. "By the way, I've never seen anything like that...cat-person. Are they common?"

"Who—oh, you mean J'zargo?" She laughed. "He's a Khajiit. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned them before."

"If you did, I don't remember. And you never said what they were." He shook his head. "There are some things in my world you'd no doubt think odd as well, but...very few cat-folk."

Ravenlight exhaled, considering. "You know, I probably didn't mention them because of the...general animosity between Bosmer and Khajiit. It's not severe, but there are still places that suffer from raiding, and we lived in one of those places."

"Animosity?" He glanced at her worriedly. "How strong is it?"

She waved a careless hand. "Nothing that would amount to more than a glare and a growl if the subject was brought up. It's been decadessince I last helped fight off a Khajiit raid; before I even started courting Firefall, let alone before he..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, blinking quickly.

Drizzt put his hand on her shoulder, but said nothing. He wasn't sure what to say; everything he could think of rang hollow, even in his mind. But he didn't have to say anything, as he found when Ravenlight abruptly turned and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Just...for being here; for reminding me I'm not alone anymore."

He smiled and hugged her back. She was not the only one glad to no longer be alone.

After a moment, he released her and stepped back. "Shall I meet you at the entrance to town, then?"

She nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. If it gets too cold, though, wait in the inn and I'll find you there."

It was slightly under an hour before Ravenlight, back in her fur garb, came jogging up to the edge of town. For once, it wasn't snowing. However, it made up for that by blowing as much of the snow already on the ground back up into the air as it could, and as a result, visibility was low. For a moment, she wasn't sure where Drizzt was. Then she noticed tracks not yet obliterated and laughed. Following them a short ways out of town proved she'd read them correctly: he had summoned Guenhwyvar, and the two were romping through the soft snow.

It only took her a few minutes to see them, apparently playing tag. Guenhwyvar's coat was silvered from the powder snow she'd been kicking up, and Drizzt, dancing around her, looked as though he'd been knocked over a few times himself.

"Enjoying yourselves?" she called as she jogged up to them.

"Immensely." Drizzt stopped to grin at her—which was a mistake, because Guenhwyvar promptly pounced on him, knocking him flat. Then she laid down on him, purring in satisfaction. Ravenlight burst into laughter.

"All right, lesson learned: the game is not over until she says it is."

"Very...funny," Drizzt wheezed, trying to lift his head from the snow.

Ravenlight crouched down, looking at him. Her expression flickered between amusement and concern. "Can you breathe?"

"Not...easily," he gasped. "Guen, get off!"

Rather than complying, the panther laid her head down on her paws and purred even louder. Ravenlight chuckled, then let out a soft, coaxing, unmistakably feline sound. Guenhwyvar pricked her ears in surprise.

The Bosmer moved back, stretching out one hand invitingly, and let out the same odd sound. This time, the panther lifted her head, looking at the Elf in some confusion. Ravenlight laughed a little, then repeated the sound, drawing it out this time and adding some pathos. She also wriggled her fingers as if offering something. Guenhwyvar held out for a few more seconds; but then she stood and padded over to the woman, rubbing her head up under the proffered hand.

Drizzt stood gratefully, rubbing his ribs and inhaling. He glanced over at the pair: the slim, black-haired Elf fondling the massive panther's head, and being rewarded by a purr so loud it sounded like distant thunder. "You're good with her," he said.

"I'm used to cats," she answered. "When I was a child, I had a jungle cat as a pet; Wolfgold found her as a cub, just barely weaned, and gave her to me. She lived for almost thirty years, so I got pretty good at learning to read her moods and figuring out what she liked. Even after she died, I never feared the other cats; I knew how to speak to them, move among them peacefully."

"I've never seen you try that with the saber cats," he said.

"I didn't raise a saber cat from a cub." She gave him a wry look. "And I've never come across one that didn't already have a taste for human flesh, which also makes a difference."

"That's true." He ruffled Guenhwyvar's neck. "I don't think many of the rangers from my world would try calming one of them, to be honest with you. They're not exactly...receptive to that sort of thing, from what I've seen."

"Not really." Ravenlight finished and patted Guen. "No more for right now, you pill; and don't try jumping on me. You may weigh more than my brothers, but I don't think you want my elbows in your ribs any more than they did."

The panther's ears flicked indignantly, but she didn't try anything.

"I didn't get the chance to ask this in the College," Drizzt said as they jogged across the fine, wind-driven snow, heading up through a mountain pass, "but what is Saarthal? It caused quite a stir when that old wizard mentioned it.

"Tolfdir," she said absently. "And Saarthal is the oldest city in Skyrim. If I recall the legends correctly, it was destroyed...gods, millenia ago, if not longer. I think that city might have predated the Dragon War."

His eyebrows arched. "What destroyed it? The dragons?"

Ravenlight shook her head. "No, it was a branch of Mer called the Snow Elves. That wasn't a wise move on their part. Saarthal had been at peace with them, and they attacked without warning, razing the city to the ground. Only two people escaped the wreckage: Ysagrimor and his son."

Drizzt frowned, trying to remember. "Have I heard the name Ysagrimor before?"

"If you've hung around the Companions at all, yes. He gathered up the famed Five Hundred Companions and returned to Skyrim with blood on his mind. I don't know if the Five Hundred wiped out the Snow Elves entirely, but they sure as hell did their best to." She paused. "Yes, you have heard that name before, I just remembered. Talsgar sang one of the Companions' lays that night in the inn, between that awful bawdy number and King Olaf's Verse. The story of Yngol and the Sea-Ghosts, I think."

Drizzt frowned, trying to remember. He'd stopped listening during The Lusty Argonian Maid, and hadn't started again until Ravenlight called his attention to—his face started burning—the last song; but he thought he had heard the name Yngol, and something about Sea-Ghosts. "I think you're right. I couldn't tell you what it was about, though."

"That's all right; neither could I." Ravenlight laughed. "I don't think either one of us was really listening to him for a while there. I know I wasn't."

"Wait." Drizzt suddenly stopped and held up his hand, turning to look strangely at a nearby mountain. "There's something up there...something I think we should see."

"What is it?" Ravenlight stopped as well, and looked up at the peak. She narrowed her eyes a little, suddenly sure that, through the mist and swirling powder snow, she could see a large statue. We're near a Daedric shrine...who is it dedicated to, though? The names of the three Paarthurnax had mentioned flitted across her mind, but logic struck them down. With the Vigilants of Stendaar combing the landscape for the past two hundred years, the nastier Daedric Princes were unlikely to still have accessible shrines—and both Namira and Molag Bal were so reviled that any followers would have had to meet in secret even before the Oblivion Crisis. She pulled out her map and instantly recognized the mark. Oh. That...makes sense.

Drizzt was moving toward the mountain, his eyes fixed and distant. Ravenlight caught up with him in a few seconds and kept pace.

"You awake?" she asked, wondering how intense the call he was answering was.

The puzzled glance he sent her was answer enough. "Did you think I was sleepwalking?"

"No, I just wondered how loud she was being." Ravenlight nodded toward the distant shrine. "When Meridia was talking to me, I couldn't hear anything else." She looked at the dim image with some grudging respect. "Looks like she's being fairly polite about this, actually."

Drizzt halted, looking from her to the shrine. He didn't actually look frightened—but it was the closest she'd seen him come to it. "Who is that?"

"Azura, Lady of Twilight. She's the patroness of Morrowwind—and the Dunmer." Ravenlight glanced at him sideways. "Which I think may be related to why you're being called that way." And why Paarthurnax didn't mention that Azura was interested in you. She watches over the Dark Elves; of course she'd be interested.

Drizzt swallowed hard. "What is Azura...like?"
Ravenlight shrugged a little. "Well, she's got a temper and doesn't like being messed with—and she was really ticked off when the Tribunal ignored a direct order and started fooling around with the Heart of Lorkhan some three or four millenia ago, which is why the Chimer are all now Dunmer—but she's not evil, if that's what you're asking. In fact, I would say the only one, Divine or Daedra, who takes more interest in the well-being of his worshipers would have to be Akatosh himself."

He relaxed—which surprised her, because she hadn't realized how tense he'd been up to that point. "She's not evil?"

"No. In fact, she's one of the few Daedric Princes considered good. Meridia is the other, as is Boethiah—though I have some real doubts as to whether or not Boethiah is actually good." Ravenlight made a face as she remembered the book she'd discovered some months back, detailing the tenets of that particular Prince. "Azura, though, I like. She's certainly gone out of her way to take care of her people." The story of the Nerevarine had fascinated her for years, particularly the care Azura had taken to return her ancient champion to the island.

"What do you think she wants from me?" Drizzt was moving again, and she kept pace. He still looked wary, but no longer frightened.

"I have no idea. Maybe just to let you know there's someone else keeping an eye on you, or even to just get a better look." She shrugged. "Azura watches over the Dunmer the way Malakath watches over the Orsimer, and while you're not a Dunmer, you are a Dark Elf. I'm willing to bet she's curious."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Someone else?"

"Ah—I wasn't going to tell you, but you probably should know." Ravenlight sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Remember how Paarthurnax knew that Kynareth had an interest in you? He also sensed that someone else was watching: someone you wanted nothing to do with. He wasn't sure who this was, but the closest he could come to was Molag Bal, Namira, and Mephala." Her eyes flashed red for a moment. "I don't know who that would be, but I do know I don't like the idea. And having Azura stand beside you might help."

Drizzt frowned. "What do Molag Bal, Namira and Mephala control?"

"Violent domination, everything vile and disgusting, and treachery, respectively." She spat. "They were despised even before the Oblivion Crisis."

"Vile and disgusting." There was a note in his voice that suggested he was putting pieces together in his mind. "Examples?"

Ravenlight shrugged. "Disfiguring diseases, ghoul-type cannibalism, insects, slugs...spiders... the like."

"Spiders." The word had a definite ring of finality. "I was afraid of this."

"You know who this is?"

"Her name is Lolth." His eyes focused on nothing, glowing with unsettling intensity. "She's..." he paused for a moment, "worshipped by my people. And if she is not the source of their wickedness, then she certainly continues it."

"I remember you mentioned her," Ravenlight said slowly. "The one worshipped by human sacrifice?" She swallowed, glancing at him. "The one you...lost your father to?"

"She does not have him. I know that for a fact." His face hardened for a moment, then relaxed. "He was...able to escape her grasp. He is at peace."

Ravenlight looked at him sharply, trying to gauge his words, and the emotion that lay behind them. Pain; the pain of loss, of betrayal...and love. He loved—loves—his father... She moved closer to him, offering a silent comfort. Unconsciously, he shifted toward her, his hand brushing lightly against hers. For a moment, they stood there. Then his eyes hardened, and he nodded.

"I'd like to find out what this Azura wants of me," he said. Then he glanced at her, his eyes showing only a flicker of vulnerability. "Will you..."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You didn't have to ask," she answered, smiling. For a moment, her eyes glowed red, and he realized that the dragon within was looking out—without her entirely realizing. "I'm with you, whatever happens."

He should have been terrified. The simple fact that he was, in a very real way, under the eye of a dragon should have scared him so much he almost couldn't move. Instead, he was...comforted. There was power here, something few would dare to come against—and the keeper of that power was his friend. He smiled back at her. "Thank you," he said simply.

Twenty minutes later, they climbed the last of the steps to the base of the shrine. The statue towered over them: a serene woman in flowing robes, her head crowned with a wreath of flowers and the sun and crescent moon held in her upraised hands. Drizzt looked at the image with interest. Despite what Ravenlight had said about Azura, he'd still had some doubt about her as they made their way to the shrine. But her statue put many of those doubts to rest. At the very least, it was clear that she was hardly this world's Lolth.

Welcome, star born of Menzoberranzan. Welcome, wanderer.

He jumped. The call that had drawn him toward the shrine had not been a voice at all; more like a persistent feeling that whatever was there, he needed to see it. And the voice he'd just heard was...impressive. Pervasive, filling both his senses and the air around him; encompassing, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. Looking at Ravenlight, it was clear that she hadn't heard it. At the same time, he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd heard the words down in Whiterun. A sliding chill ran down his spine then, as he wondered: What had she meant by 'star born of Menzoberranzan?

"Welcome, both of you." This voice was more obviously earthly: rich, brisk, and refreshingly no-nonsense. It belonged to a hooded Dunmer woman, who turned from her contemplation of the statue to face them. "I have been waiting for you."

"You knew we were coming?" Ravenlight's eyebrows arched.

The woman nodded. "Of course. I am Arenea Ienith, the priestess of this shrine. Azura grants me visions in exchange for my service. You, Ravenlight Dovahkiin, I saw ascending these steps before you were born. And you, Drizzt Do'Urden, you caught my lady's eye when first you arrived in Nirn." She tipped her head to the side, looking them both over. "I did not know when you would come; nor did I truly expect you would arrive together. But I knew you would come."

They looked at each other. Then Drizzt turned back to the priestess. "What does she...want with us?"

"Merely to speak with you." Arenea gestured to the altar. "Place your hand on the altar, and you will be able to hear her. Ravenlight, she gave me a message for you."

Drizzt swallowed hard and stepped forward, looking up at the statue to keep reminding himself that Azura wasn't Lolth. Still, even with that in front of him, his hand shook as he placed it on the cold, black stone.

There is no need for you to be afraid. He could hear amusement in the voice addressing him. I bear you no ill will.

"I have had reason to be in the past," he said, not knowing whether he was speaking aloud or not. "Especially dealing with..."

Gods? Demons? The amusement was still there. I am considered both, true. But I am not an Aedra, nor am I a demon. And my interest in you is... She considered. There are those who would say that a Daedric Prince's interest could never be benign, so I will not use that word. But I have no desire to see you fall, either to death or to perdition.

"There is comfort in that," he said slowly. "What is your interest, then?"

I am the Lady of Twilight, the voice said, and he felt something wash over him, like the welcome coolness of a summer dusk. Patroness of the Dark Elves. Did you think, Drizzt Do'urden, that we of Nirn were blind to what went on in the realms across the void? Particularly those realms which in some ways mirror our own? I know of your kin; the evil of Lolth and the tragic fall of the Drow. Azura sighed, and the twilight coolness...if what he felt was a summer evening, then the sky had clouded over, obscuring the sunset colors. She might have been my counterpart, you know, rather than my opposite. So much was lost with her hatred.

He looked up, staring at the statue as he tried to make sense of what she'd told him. "And I..."

Yes, you. The overcast sky cleared again, shimmering with brilliant, vibrant beauty. A sudden brightness in the midst of the dark, glowing like a star brought forth unexpectedly in starless depths. And while you shine alone, you shine the brighter for that. Is there any wonder that those who hated the light would want to snuff out that brightness? Or any wonder that those who rejoiced in such a thing—whether for the rarity of such a light, or their love of those that shone—would go out of their way to protect you? Especially when, like a guiding star indeed, others began—some reluctantly, others unknowingly, but they began—to follow your light out of the darkness and into the possibility of a greater light?

"And which are you?"

How fair would twilight be without the glimmer of stars in the coming night? I do not hate their beauty. And while I would not seek to pull you from where your heart resides, I would give you what aid I may.

He paused. "What kind of aid, and how?"
It is mine to give visions to those I favor. For you it will come in the form of true dreams. And as for how...I will lay my blessing on something you carry. You took a trophy from the first dragon you slew in Skyrim: place it on my altar.

It took him a few seconds to realize what she was talking about. Then he remembered the light, hollow wing bone Ravenlight had given him, and pulled it out. As he did, he was inexplicably reminded of Pantea's ornate flute, seeing its design overlaid on the bone.

Yes, you see what it should be. The closer it comes to that end, the clearer the dreams I can give. For a moment, the cream-white object lay undisturbed on the black stone. Then it flickered, shimmering with a soft blue-violet the color of a late evening sky. My blessing now lies upon it. Take it up again. And be aware; not all the dreams you will have will be true, but pay attention to any that seem particularly vivid. The message given will be important. And then, with the gentleness of twilight fading to dusk, she was gone.

For a moment, he simply stood, staring at the glimmering bone. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and picked it up again. It didn't feel any different, but he slipped it into his pack a little more quickly than he'd pulled it out.

"Drizzt?" Ravenlight touched his arm carefully. "Everything all right?'

"I think so," he answered, blinking. "That was...odd."

"What did she want?" Ravenlight looked up at the statue.

"I'm not really...sure," he admitted. "But she put a blessing on that dragon's wing bone I took from the first dragon we fought together; if I make it into a flute, it'll give true dreams. And she told me she doesn't hold ill will toward me, which was...reassuring." He looked at her. "What was her message for you?"

"Considerably more cryptic." Ravenlight bowed to Aranea. "I can't promise results any time soon, Priestess, but I will look into it. Is there anything I can provide in return for this?"

The woman hesitated, apparently torn between pride and necessity. "Some food stores would be appreciated," she finally admitted.

Ravenlight smiled and opened her pack. "I have those," she said. "And in abundance. What, exactly, would you like?"

The weather grew worse as they made their way across the mountains. Fortunately, the excavation site was not far away, and they managed to catch up to two of the other students, Onmund and J'zargo. The two were friendly, but a little unsure of themselves—though a fight with a pair of frost trolls helped boost their confidence, as they aided the two warriors with fire spells that quickly brought the monsters down. After that, they were more open, and chatted gladly; Onmund with Ravenlight, and J'zargo with Drizzt.

Drizzt was not entirely sure what to make of J'zargo. The Khajiit seemed to regard the entire world as either rivals or conquests; and while this was true for most Drow as well, they did not usually display the same...cheerfulness about it. For Drow, rivals were to be eliminated. For J'zargo, rivals were simply there so that he could challenge himself and surpass them.

He also gave the impression that for him—and possibly for his entire kind—females existed solely to seduce or be seduced, and questioned Drizzt on the nature of his relationship with Ravenlight. The severity of the response left the startled Khajiit with no doubts that she was off-limits...and Drizzt wondering why in the world he'd blown up.

It's not as if we're lovers, he thought. And it's hardly as if she can't take care of herself. So why did I react like that?

He was still puzzling over it when the ground nearly opened under him. Startled, he halted and looked up: looking out and over a half-excavated city which sank deep into the cliffs. His eyebrows arched in respect, both for the old city-builders, and for those who had managed to dig it out of the frozen ground.

"Impressive," Ravenlight said behind him. "I wonder how deep it was buried, and what might be inside there."

Drizzt grimaced. "That part has me...worried." He exchanged glances with her, and saw that she was concerned as well.

Onmund exhaled. "I have mixed feelings about this," he muttered as they began walking down the ramp leading to the entrance. "On the one hand, it is an amazing opportunity, but on the other...I kind of wish they'd left this place alone."

Ravenlight glanced at him, a wry twist to her mouth. "Please the gods," she said dryly, "that we don't all end up wishing that."

And it's up! So what's waiting in Saarthal? And what's going to happen over the course of the winter?

This was a shorter chapter than I'd intended, but a fair amount happened, and it's not the shortest one I've written, so I'm not going to fuss about that. As always, I want to hear from you: reviews are like getting the winning lottery tickets, and provide extra encouragement to keep going. Let me know what you liked and what didn't click, and what you might like to see happen in coming chapters.

Thanks for your continued interest! -Philowen Aster